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The proportions of each case were designed to the shape and size of the single exhibit it contained. The lighting of the cases was dramatically arranged so that each treasure was revealed in crisp detail and seemed to float airily and independently of the dim surroundings.
Firstly, there were religious and sacred objects, a Bible with covers of carved ivory and precious stones bearing the doubleheaded eagle of Imperial Russia. Peter the Great, Heng murmured. His personal Bible.
There was a copy of the Torah, the yellow parchment rolled n ivory case wi on to an ivory distaff, and contained in the Star of David carved upon it. Salvaged from the great synagogue at Constantinople when it was destroyed by the Byzantine emperor Theodosius, Heng explained.
Amongst other treasures there were icons of ivory set with diamonds and Hindu statuettes of Vishnu, a copy of the Koran covered with beaten gold and ivory, and ancient Christian statues of the Virgin and the saints, all carved from ivory.
Then, as they moved along the dim passageway, the nature of the exhibits became more profane, and secular. There were women's fans and combs and necklaces from ancient Rome and Greece, then an extraordinary object shaped like a two-foot rolling pin with a rooster head carved at one end.
Tug did not recognize it and Heng explained expressionlessly. It belonged to Catherine the Great of Russia. Her physicians convinced her that ivory was a sovereign specific against syphilis. It is an ivory dildo, made to her own design. Occasionally Heng instructed his son to open one or two of the cases so that Tug could handle the exhibits and examine them more closely. The true joy of ivory lies in the feel of it in the hand, Heng suggested. it is as sensuous as the skin of a lovely woman. See the grain, Sir Peter, that lovely subtle cross-hatching that no synthetic substance can duplicate. There was one object the size and shape of a football, carved like lacework.
Within it were eight more balls, free and complete, one within the other like the layers of an onion. The artist had carved the i
Five years from the life of a master craftsman. How can you place a value on that? CHeng asked.
Two hours after entering the museum they came at last to the room that contained the netsukes.
During the Tokugawa Shogunate in Japan, only the aristocracy were allowed to wear personal adornment. Amongst the newly emerging and affluent middle class the netsuke button, worn on the sash and used to secure a pill box or tobacco pouch, was an essential article of dress.
The beauty and intricacy of the carving enhanced the owner's prestige.
Heng had assembled a collection of over ten thousand pieces.
However, as he explained to Tug, he could only display a few of his favourites, and amongst them were his own creations.
These were cased separately, and once again Tug was invited to take them in his hand and to admire the craftsmanship. Of course, I was obliged to seek out and buy back my own work. Heng smiled and tugged at the tassel of hair that hung from his cheek. I have agents around the world still searching; for my creations. I estimate there are at least a hundred that have so far eluded me. Ten thousand dollars if you find one, Sir Peter, he promised. And worth every cent, Tug agreed as he examined one of the tiny ivory buds. The detail and rendition was extraordinary and the subject matter covered a wide range of humanity and the animal world, from birds and mammals to men and beautiful women and children in every possible pose and indulging in every activity, from war to love, from death to childbirth.
Somehow, Heng the artist had managed to transform even the mundane into something remarkable and exciting. Subjects that might have been merely pornographic and coarse were instead spiritual, ethereal and moving. You have a rare gift, Tug acknowledged. The heart and eye of a great artist. For a short while the two men were in accord, and then they left the treasure house and returned to the main house where servants had set out writing materials and light refreshments at a long lacquer-work table. They removed their footwear and settled themselves on cushions about the table and, at last, the real work began.
In London, Tug had negotiated and signed a document of intent with the elder Ning sons. This was subject to ratification by the patriarch. Tug had never expected this to be a simple procedure and he was not to be disappointed.
A [it-tic after midnight they adjourned and Tug was escorted back to the guesthouse by Cheng. The two female servants were waiting-for him with tea and refreshments. They helped him change into his night clothes, then drew back the quilts on the low wide bed and waited expectantly.
Tug dismissed them and they left at once. He had not been able to discover where the video camera and microphone were concealed, but he was certain they were there. He switched off the light and lay for a while, well pleased with the progress he had made. Then he slept soundly and awoke eager for the fray.
In the middle of the following afternoon, Tug and Heng H'Sui shook hands.
From all that Tug had learned about the old man, he believed that like himself Heng was a man of peculiar integrity. Between them that handshake was as good as any formal document. Of course, the lawyers on both sides would now come in and complicate and muddy the issues, but even they could never weaken the central pillars of the agreement.
Between Tug and Heng it was sacrosanct, the honour of buccaneers.
There is one other matter I would like to discuss with you, Heng murmured, and Tug frowned. No, no, Sir Peter. It is a personal matter, not part of our agreement. And Tug relaxed. I will do what I can to help you. What is it about? Elephant, Heng said. Ivory. Ah.
Tug smiled and nodded.
Why didn't I guess? At the time that bloodthirsty madman Idi Amin took over Uganda, the largest elephant still alive on the African continent were in the Uganda National Park near the Murchison Falls at the headwaters of the Nile, Heng explained. Yes, Tug agreed. I saw a dozen animals in that Park that had tusks over a hundred pounds a side.
They were wiped out by Idi Amin's henchmen and the ivory stolen by him. Not all of them, Sir Peter. I have it on good authority that some of those animals, the largest of them, escaped a
They crossed the border into Ubomo and reached the rain forests on the slopes of the Mountains of the Moon, that area which now forms part of our syndicate's concession. it is possible, Tug conceded. It is more than that. It is fact, Heng contradicted him. My son Cheng, he indicated the man at his side, has a reliable agent in Ubomo. An Indian who has cooperated with us on many occasions. His name is Chetti Singh.
Do you know him? I have heard of him, vaguely. Tug frowned again.
Let me think . . . Yes, he is co
How can I help you? Tug insisted. I want those tusks, Heng murmured, the passion of. the collector barely concealed behind the time-eroded mask of his face. More than the ore and the hardwoods of the forest, I want that ivory. President Taffari can sign a special Protected Game licence.
I believe there is provision for that in the constitution. If there isn't, it can be changed. I presume that your man Chetti Singh will be able to arrange for the ivory to be harvested. He is the master poacher. If that is the case, I will send my Gulfstream to Ubomo to pick up the tusks and ferry them to you here. I can foresee no problems, Mr. Ning. Thank you, Sir Peter, Heng smiled. Is there anything I can do for you in exchange? Yes. Tug leaned forward. As a matter of fact there is. You only have to ask, Heng invited. Before I do that, I must explain something of the new hysteria that is sweeping the Western world. Fortunately for YOU, you are not subject to the same pressures. There is a new thinking, especially amongst the young but also, regrettably, amongst those who should know better. This philosophy is that we have no right to utilise the natural assets of our planet. We ca